


The Normal Life Has It's Cons

by rubyrubio



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Angst, Dean Commits Suicide, Depression, Gen, Sam Winchester at Stanford, Suicidal Dean, Upset Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-02 03:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4044136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyrubio/pseuds/rubyrubio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally, Sam has begun his new life. Stanford has treated him well, and having the prettiest girl on his arm makes it better. He barely misses his old life. It was now in the past.<br/>But when he receives a dreadful phone call from Bobby, he realizes that maybe; he could've given his old life some recognition. </p><p>Trigger Warning* Contains suicidal content</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any tears!

* * *

* * *

 

Sam sat, leaning back against the bar while his girlfriend Jessica giggled and talked with some of her friends. He hated clubs and bars of any kind, but when she gave him that pleading look of hope; he just couldn't resist. 

He could imagine his father hustling pool while Dean sat back with a smirk, sipping on a beer and flirting away with someone with a skirt that left no imagination. He sipped his own beer with a new tension that wasn't there before. It's been almost a year since he's seen his brother, but he couldn't bother to call him back. He deleted any voice mails that he received from all the disposable phones. 

Jessica eventually saw her now scowling boyfriend sipping away and staring mindlessly into space. He did that sometimes, and she wondered how  _bad_ his home life was for him to be out of it like that all the time. She was told about how he and his dad fought, how his brother had a tendency to pick on him; but protect him all the same. She always smiled about the things he would tell her about his older brother. Anytime she asked to talk to him he would go silent, shake his head like that wasn't an option.  _  
_

What she didn't know was that he really couldn't bring Dean back into his life. If you leave the life, you leave everything along with it. Of course there were salt lines, a bit of holy water mixed into his friends drinks for good measure. That was just habit, a way to make sure he was safe from that life. From every evil thing that wanted him dead. 

While his girlfriend came over, kissing him like there was nothing better to do. While Sam was holding her tight against him, relishing in her beauty and his adoration for her. While he was having the life he dreamed of since moving away from his first good school; His brother was losing his own life. 

 

  
Dean looked at the will in his hands, making sure everything he loved was going to the right people. His gun, that was going to Bobby. Originally that would be Sam's, but he didn't want him. He didn't want to hunt or protect himself from anything other than his family. 

He understood his wants to leave. But did he understand the toll it would take on everybody else? Their father lived off of Jack Daniels for a week before throwing himself in a bunch of work across the country. Throwing out some excuse that he had to save all those people before they all died. He didn't realize that his own son was dying. That he needed the comfort and safety of his own father. But Dean didn't hold it against him. The job came first, saving people was always the number one priority. But it wasn't like he couldn't have hugged his son throughout all this. Said something else to him that didn't have anything to do with his baby brother. 

Everything was always about him. Was he okay? Did you leave him alone? How was the boy's learning going? Not the type like algebra or English, like Dean made him do. The myths of a Jane Doe or another Latin lesson from Bobby. Did he pick up that bow hunting skill like I asked ya boy? Dean would always answer with a yes or a no. Never being dishonest, because that would earn him a bright red cheek and a sting in his mouth. 

He left the car to his little brother, though. If anything he deserved of Dean's, it was her. His baby can drive for miles, the engine never stopping to catch a breath. Their initials carved into the side of the car. He could still remember John's grumbling about leaving his damn car alone, and his two sons giggling and shushing each other like a bunch of little shits in the backseat. 

He left his clothes to go to whoever, but he made sure to leave all the little things like a picture of his mom and Sam's 6th grade graduation certificate in a small box, little trinkets and rocks that Sam has given him over the years. It would go to his little brother, and maybe he would remember that his older brother wasn't all too bad. Maybe he could get his little brother to shed a tear or two for him. 

He folded the will and stuffed it in his pocket, before getting to the real fun of it all. The letters to each person he loved. He made the one to his father short. Thanks for taking care of him, for teaching him how to be a better person. He decided not to go too rough on the old man, considering that his death would take a toll on him. Maybe his dad wouldn't really care if he died, but he was sure that even his good little soldier was important to him somehow. 

The next was to Bobby, for really treating him like he mattered, like that world wasn't in the fate of his hands. That he was allowed to grieve and love and cry. Even the old Bastard did sometimes, for the future that could have been given to him. The wife he couldn't protect. The kids he never got to have. Not until John Winchester showed up with his snot nosed little idjits anyway. That's the only thing that was really important. 

His letter to Sam made him really tear up. He really didn't mean to make it longer than a page, but after the first couple of lines he couldn't really stop the ink flowing across the page. His hands wouldn't stop shaking, and he had to stop every once in a while to get all the tears out. He couldn't afford to smudge all the dedication he put into that bitch's letter. 

After he finished, he took them all in three different envelopes. He stuffed him in his belt and stood up, reloading his gun with just one bullet and grabbed his bag. He stored the gun in his pants and turned off the lights of the motel. This was the last one he would ever sleep in. He had a flash of him and Sam staying up late to watch Jurassic Park, all the times they had to eat greasy pizza and a carton of milk for each Thanksgiving. He remembered a Christmas so delightful that it brought a smile to his face when he thought of it. Looking down he saw the amulet Sam gave him long ago. He wondered why he still wore the thing, and it made him think of one last thing. Taking out the letter to Sammy, he slipped off the amulet and shoved it into the now resealed envelope. Now he could finish the job. The one he should've done a long time ago. 

 

Sam was watching a horror movie late, while Jessica finished her studies. His finals wouldn't be for another week, and he decided to take a break for a little bit to give his head a rest. It wouldn't kill him to earn something like this, after all the trouble of getting here. He couldn't really enjoy what was on the screen though without laughing. There wasn't any realistic concepts, a typical dumb thing people do to get themselves killed. This was how his family found a hunt. 

A pain shot through him, and he figured changing the channel would be best. He settled on the news, where there was news about a bank robbery going on. He huffed and decided to stay on it, thinking it was better than the last. He suddenly felt his phone buzz beside him, and saw the familiar digits. He cringed at first, but relaxed when he realized it was just a message. Something he only got from Dean, and for once he decided to read it. He wouldn't unless it was important right? He opened up the message, only to be confused by it's content. 

 

_I'm really glad you don't need me anymore Sammy. I'm proud of you._

_-Jerk_

 

He looked at it over and over, trying to find some type of message or code in it. He could think that this was a drunken pissed off text. He could sense sarcasm, but something was really off about this message. Why would his brother send him something like that? Was he still bitter because he left? He remembered the first few voice messages he listened to of Dean's. Dean was usually drunk off his ass and angrier than a wasp. It hurt, and that was when he decided he didn't want to hear his brother's voice anymore. Not when it was full of hatred for him. There wasn't even a sober apology after it. It was like he was too wasted to remember calling him in the first place. 

Sam shook off his jittery feelings, turning his attention back to the TV. He fell asleep moments after, stressing himself over those two sentences. 

 

Dean drove for miles, crossing each state in a hurry to move this along. He didn't think his plan was that hard. It wasn't at all. But time was. It wanted to stay slow, it wanted to drag out and make him think about how worthless he really was. A grunt, a little boy waving around a man's gun. If only Sammy were here to ride along with him. He would take the bitch moaning about Black Sabath playing any day over the silence and ache he felt as each road sign passed him. 

Eventually, a day or two later, he arrived at his destination. The place that began the start of a not so happy life. This house was the reason his mother was dead, the reason his dad beat him every November. This was the reason why dad went all military sergeant and why Sammy doesn't love his family. This is the reason why Dean feels so broken inside at the thought of his own flesh and blood. He was dead inside, thanks to a fire. Thanks to an evil creature that had to do it's bidding. It made him break down and cry. 

And he cried, and cried. It wasn't silent tears or chick-flick cutesy. It was raw jarring sobs being thrown out of his mouth. His teeth clenched to stop them, and his eyes were shut with stinging tears in his eyes. He was trained a killer, but he held his mother's softness. He held onto the innocence Sammy had for a long time, and maybe that was the reason he wasn't as stone cold as he should've been. Another reason why he had to leave. He didn't want to become that, and without Sam that's what he'd be. Who knows who would end up in the crossfire. 

He parked the car in the driveway, hoping it wouldn't get towed or destroyed while he made his way to his death spot. He made sure everything was in place before placing a hand on the hood and whispering goodbyes to the impala. If only Dean knew what adventures she'd bring him later in life. But what kind of freak sees the future? 

He walked for miles, trying to kill time by humming Metallica. It was getting on his nerves, and he just needed to reach the woods before it became dark. If he could make it there in time, things would be peaceful. He could go exactly how he wanted. 

 

**_A week later_ **

 

Sam was never given another text or call from his brother. It didn't concern him too much, except that it was completely out of character for his brother. Where were the Samantha and awkward virgin jokes that he gave him? 

He shook his head and begun to focus on the paper in front of him. It was a tough situation, being the defendants lawyer. He considered going into law just for the very reason that there was a chance he'd see his jerk older brother grinning at him in a court room. But what was the point? His family was too smart to get caught. Too intelligent and stealthy. 

He pulled out his phone eventually, his finger hovering over Dean's speed dial. What made him think of calling his brother was wiped out when his phone jumped out of his hand in shock. There was a call from Bobby. 

What did he want? 

He hesitated a minute before answering. "Hello?" 

He heard a sniff on the other side and got tense real quick. "Hey boy, how's college treatin' you?" He could've sworn there was a strain in Bobby's voice, as if he'd been crying. He didn't know how to take this. "Everything's fine, but-hey. What are you calling me for?" It had to be real bad if Bobby was suddenly contacting him out of the blue. Was his dad dead? It wouldn't surprise him if that was the case. No doubt he had thrown himself into a hunt unprepared, uncaring if it was a demon or a ghost. He felt a pain in his heart, but he honestly felt relieved. 

"Sam, ah-never mind that. You should come visit soon." Bobby steered clear of the real reason he called, and he knew he had to tell Sam. That boy was too smart for his own good. Sam furrowed his brows and stood up from his chair, placing a hand through his hair. "Bobby what is it?" He prepared himself for the blow, for the reason he called. But he never expected the next words that were about to come out next. 

"Dean's dead." 

A small gasp raised out of his throat, and he dropped the phone with a thud, before curling his hands in his hair and gripping so tight he thought he would've pulled some of it out. He dropped to his knees in pain, and yelped as the words replayed over and over.  _Dean's dead. Dean's dead. Dean's dead. Dean's dead._

But why? How? What made his brother so careless? What made him unprepared? How did one mistake kill him off? Did he not reload fast enough? Was it two spirits rather than one? Was he caught in the middle of a hunt and shot by the cops? 

He felt a flaring in his chest, and he kept hitting himself to get rid of the pain. But it grew with each blow. His brother was dead, and at what cost? He heard Bobby's hiccups and tears through the phone and picked it up again, clutching it. "How did he die, Bobby?" He needed to know, he wanted to have another reason to get revenge for his brother. Yes, that would mean giving up the pretty girlfriend and the wonderful friends. He would have to lose his chance into a law career. But what was life without his brother breathing? Without his brother killing evil so it wouldn't run after him? He wondered how life might have turned out differently for him if Dean died along with their mom. If he himself did, so Dean wouldn't have the responsibility of looking after him, like his text said. 

Bobby was real quiet for a second, and he almost thought he hung up. Then his next few words were like a bullet in his gut. And he couldn't handle it. It was a mistake, it had to be. "By his own hand, Sam. A bullet in is head in Kansas." 

It wasn't real, the feelings in his fingers went numb, and the tears begun to sting as he wiped them away viciously. His brother was dead. All because of his selfishness. He broke the shell of a brother who was so dependent on him. He should've known, he should've tried harder to bring Dean into his life. 

Dean shot himself. 

 

It was a while before he reached Bobby's cabin, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the impala parked in front. He figured calling to see why it was here to haunt him, but he remembered that he threw his phone out the window after the millionth call from Jessica. He stepped out of his vehicle, and sat in front of the real sweetheart. He remembered the way Dean would kiss the steering wheel and grin his shit-eating grin before roaring the engine onto an exit. He remembered sitting in the back playing mercy with Dean until his wrists were on fire, and John scolding them for such childish games. He remembered sticking an army man into the ashtray, and all the cool sights ans scenery his older brother would point out to him as they drove on an abandoned road. He placed his head on the hood and hit his fists into it, tears he thought he got rid of splashing down onto the polished hood. 

He felt a presence behind him, but it didn't matter if it was a Bobby or Pastor Jim or even a the bitch that killed his mother. He just wanted to hear his brother's voice again. 


	2. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's letter does more damage to Sam than he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ******I added a few extras to the heaven scene! Nothing too big, but it's still better than what I originally wrote.

 

* * *

 

Bobby's hand was trying to be soothing, rubbing back and forth on Sam's back. But it didn't make the pain go away. Dean was gone. He left his car, his life. And for what? Because his little brother shut him out? It would've seemed pathetic really to anyone outside of their small family. Was that even what is was anymore? Family? Dean was practically the glue of it all. Without Dean he would've never felt so guilty about leaving for school. Without Dean he probably would've gotten a hit or two from dad after their constant bickering. But now that was all gone to waste. He bit the inside of his cheek like he's been doing all night, and felt all the marks now engraved there. Running his tongue over his clenched teeth he stood up, and faced Bobby. It's been just over a year and he was towering over the old drunk. Bobby gripped the boys shoulders with so much grief and pulled him down to his height. It's been awhile since he's hugged a Winchester. John was strictly professional, Dean was dead, and this boy was the only thing he had left. 

Sam felt the love and sadness Bobby was putting into that hug, and he gave every inch right back. If anyone knew Dean like he did, it was Bobby. 

They sat there for a while, crying silent tears down each other's back and swaying as they did so. Eventually Bobby slowly let go of the boy and looked him in the eye. "It's good to have you back boy." 

That sent him over the edge, and he pushed back any tears that threatened to spill. "I'm glad to be home." 

Home. That's what this was. Bobby's old cabin was home. His beer stained flannel was home. He and his brother's home; always. 

That seemed to light a spark in Bobby's eye, and he nodded along with him. He started walking away from Sam, going into his house. "There's some things Dean left for all of us." With that Sam anxiously followed after. Did he really want to know what his brother wanted to give him? If he left a letter, he was scared to open it. If it was full of hatred, he could never own up to it. He couldn't bear the guilt that would eat him away. He would end up rotting in the ground, probably next to his brother in eternal pain. 

Sam sat down on the old couch, looking at all the opened beer cans and porn magazines that littered the coffee table. It confused him a little bit, considering Bobby was never really a horn dog. But what did he know? His brother became emotionally unable and took his own life, and Sam didn't even blink an eye as it happened. He knew if he truly loved his brother, he would've felt the connection they had go off. But he severed it so bad when he left. He still remembered that day so bad it left a bad taste in his mouth. 

_"What the fuck is this Sam?" His father held up the acceptance letter furiously in his hand, his eyes holding a sense of betrayal. But he didn't flinch. He expected this out of the old man. He just didn't expect to get caught. "It's my ticket to Stanford, dad. What else?" He crossed his arms across his chest and held his gaze. He wouldn't submit to the man at all costs._

_John Winchester through it down and stepped on it, crossing over to his son. "Stanford? I didn't think you were that stupid boy. There's no way in hell I'd let you go." He couldn't believe Sam's nerve to even attempt this... Scheme. But his boy didn't back down, his mother's stubbornness glazing over him. "I'm eighteen, legally an adult. I can do whatever I want. Why can't you be excited for me like a normal father? Is it really so bad that I want something else outside of my life other than a dusty back road? Getting a shitty patch job by Dean because you used me as bait?" His voice was getting louder and louder, and eventually there was a crash. John threw the bottle against the sink, making it splatter against every wall._

_"You know what boy, that will be your life. If I didn't raise you in this you would've been as good as dead. And that's what that preppy school will give you. Death. Is that what you really want?" If that's my way of getting out of here, than yes. He though to himself. He didn't understand and he was about to continue, but his dad beat him to it. "You want me to be normal? Well why don't you just find yourself a new family huh? Because we're not good enough for you. Pack up your things boy. I don't need this shit right now." He stormed away into the bathroom, and Sam huffed. He went into the bedroom he and Dean shared. Dean had on his headphones blaring his mullet rock like he always did any time they bickered. He saw Sammy and grinned real wide. "So I take it that went well?" He couldn't take the cheer in his older brother's voice, not at a time like this. But he took it in anyway. When was he ever gonna see his brother again? He felt a shoulder on his hand as he stuffed shirts in a duffel, and shoved at Dean's shoulder the second it touched him. "Fuck off, Dean." He wasn't so cold to his brother, but he knew he would stay and make his chances worse if he did. Dean looked at him confused and held his hands up. "Woah, okay tiger! So things got a bit heated this time. Take out whatever you need on me. Just not the jaw alright?" That's where he hit his brother, and he didn't seem to happy._

_Dean grunted in pain, before glaring at his brother. Annoyance was all that was in his eyes, but it looked just like the one their old man gave him a while ago. "What the hell man? Are you just trying to get everyone in a shitty mood? Do that again and I'll beat you to pulp, Jesus." He rubbed his jaw, feeling the swollen muscle twitch under his fingertips. Sam just fumed and kept stuffing his bag. Dean finally realized what was going on. "Wait, wait. Sammy what the heck are you doing?" Sam felt the cotton ball in his throat and swallowed it the best he could. "Dean, I'm leaving."  There was a stiff uncomfortable silence before Dean spoke up. "What?"_

_He closed his eyes before turning to his brother with an artificial confidence. "I'm leaving Dean. To Stanford." The stare between them was a silent conversation. Bewilderment and pride lit up Dean's face like a Christmas tree. Sam's face held up a tiny bit of a smile for making his brother proud, but also grief that this is how they said goodbye. "Well that's awesome Sammy. Maybe I could visit you there sometimes around-" He was shut off by Sam's shaking head. He couldn't believe what he was doing, but it had to be done. "No Dean, I don't want to see you there. I don't want you anywhere near me. For the rest of my life. I'm done with hunting, and I'm done with this family." He felt the tears rising up, and he couldn't look Dean in the eye as he said the next part. "I'm done with you."_

_Dean didn't think he'd ever experience heart break, but his little brother looking at him, or rather the floor, in humiliation of him was enough for him to know. Every crack in his soul shattered with that statement, and he felt the trembling in his fingers as he tried not to dwell on those words. "Sammy-"  
_

_Sam shoved him, hard. "No! Dean! Just shut your mouth okay? I don't want to be anywhere near you. I'm so sick of you thinking that we were ever brothers." Each word put another shattering hit to each broken piece of his soul. Who he was, what he's done. Everything he ever put dedication to was thrown away by his own flesh and blood. It was everything he's ever feared mixed into one. "You're just dad's soldier, and an annoying babysitter. I definitely don't want to grow up around this influence anymore." Each word was poison in his mouth. He wanted to run up to Dean and hug him. He never wanted to let go. But he had to._

_He had to let go._

_He zipped up his bag, and didn't bother looking at his brother as he left. His father was fixing himself with bottles of Jim and Jose, anger seeping ever pore. Before Sam reach the door knob, he heard words that made him think that he succeeded in his normal life goal._

_"If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back."_

_And he walked out._

 

More than anything he wished he didn't leave like that, he wished he didn't shut off Dean so cruelly that it broke the older sibling. The thought made him break himself. Before he could rip out his hair, Bobby came in with a box and an envelope, with a plastic bag of clothes that must've been Dean's. "These were all left to you." The old drunk placed them by Sam's feet and sat down in the chair on the side of the couch. "Everything that's on the table was from his backseat. Guess he went out with a bang." And it was as if Dean really wanted to have his last day on earth to be surrounded by inanimate objects he enjoyed. Cheap booze, burgers, and Busty Asian Beauties. All that was needed was a local bar babe and a cold affair in the middle of the night to complete it. 

But what he really needed was a random historical fact from his geek brother. He just needed to ruffle that mess of hair and hug him into his side so tight you'd think he couldn't let go. And he wouldn't have. 

Finally Sam picked up the envelope, thinking it would help explain the worn out box with a scratched out rose painting on it. He unsealed it carefully, and thought of Dean licking it closed, probably cussing as it made a paper cut on his tongue. It was easy to open, looking like it was opened again. Sniffling, he pulled out the bunched up letters, and the amulet he gave Dean years ago. He gasped, a hiccup caught him in the middle of it as he thread it through his fingers. He still couldn't believe his brother held onto this. The only bond that probably kept Dean going for a while. It made another skip in his heart, before he eventually unfolded the letters and began reading. 

**_Sammy,_ **

**_God, how do I even start a letter like this? This is probably unexpected for both of us, to be in a situation like this. But I don't want you to join me just yet, alright? I want you to live the life you've always dreamed of. Find your girl, your job. Pick out the perfect white fence and yellow house. Make several little shits to follow you around while you pick up their messes. Eat actual homemade pie. Chase this dream Sam._ **

**_The only thing I have ever wanted for you was to be happy. Whether it was with me, or some hick that might have picked you up from the gas station. Whatever it is, I want you to have it. Although it hurts that I don't get to be a part of that._ **

**_I don't understand what I did to make you so mad at me that day. Do you remember the resentment and hatred you felt for me? Because that's all that consumed me after that door slammed. Your words were a breaking point, for all of us. I'm glad you're not as sneaky as you think you are, because if you left like you did when we were kids, it would've been more than a lecture I would've gotten from dad. We never really did talk about that did we? I still remember fearing dad's reaction when you were gone. The taste of blood in my mouth as he constantly asked where you were between each hit. I think he was more intent on taking his anger of losing you on me than actually finding out where you had gone._ **

**_The only reason I tell you this is because this is how I know you and dad are alike. I know why you two butted heads like you did. You both were fearing for the future, the outcome of everything. You make the same veins show in your arms as he does too, did you ever notice that? Random, but that's what always made me loosen up on you during sparring. Most importantly though, dad and you know where to hit the hardest._ **

**_He knows the weakest parts of the body, where to strike so you're down on your back as he snaps your neck. You know how to crush and shatter each piece of my heart. I'm proud of you for that Sammy. I think I taught you well in that department._ **

**_I'm sorry I wasn't ever a good enough brother. I honestly can't think of anything I did wrong, except leave you alone to sleep in the backseat of Cindy Garthem's fancy car or trying to side with dad's point of view in an argument. I know I never really encouraged education more than just actually getting it done. But I couldn't make you a grunt like me. I couldn't let you see all the pain hunting brought on people. Was that where I messed up? Should I have taken the world off that pedestal so you could run back into my arms after a scrape or bruise?_ **

**_I feel embarrassed that I even tried at one point to get you and all your nerd friends to like me. Lame and totally chick-like, I know. But what could I do? We only ever saw shit like Breakfast Club or Jurassic Park as kids, and the coolest guy was always the one with the leather jacket and flirtatious smiles. He's the guy that everyone loved. And so what did you think I did? I guess it wasn't as good as it should've been, but I never really tried to experience people the way you did. I didn't have the luxury to make friends and strings of relationships. I didn't really care to know anyone like I knew you. Because all I got was you. My number one priority._ **

**_I'm sorry I screwed it up._ **

**_I'm sorry I wasn't the cool brother I thought I was, and I understand why you always hated me taking you to school, and dropping you off at events or parties. I understand why you think I'm a grunt. And it's okay Sammy, I know that's all I'll ever be._ **

**_You aren't the world's greatest person kid, but you were the greatest person in my world. You are my world. Are. Without you life on the road would've been hell, and I know I would've been a cold stone killer, a hunter with no emotion. I have to thank you for that. I don't think you really saw potential in yourself unless you got it from someone else. But I'm here to tell you, with or without that confidence. You're still my bitchy little brother that became clingy anytime he was sick. You're still that caring trustworthy boy that did all the talking while I stole small cherry pies from Simple Market._ **

**_I miss that with you. I miss all the memories and jokes and ideas that we shared. Maybe they weren't that good for you, but boy were they heaven to me. I remember staying up late and telling you about our mom, as much as I could still remember. I remember you asking to wear my hoodie to school so bullies knew you were my little brother. I guess people just knew not to mess with me or anything I love._ **

**_I wish I was a hero, but since I'm dead, and have my brains splattered all over some poor tree; I want you to be that hero. Save people for me will you? I don't care if it's from a lonely ghost bitch in Ohio or a kid beating another kid to pulp on a playground. I want you to carry on the family business in some way. I know dad will kind of ruin it with the way he handled you leaving. But I know you'll bring our name up again. So thank you again._ **

**_Take care of my car, she's in your hands now. Screw her up with whatever new gadgets and I'll haunt your ass. Keep my hoodie, because maybe people will still shiver at the sight of it. And please keep hold of that necklace. There's a lot of luck that thing has brought me. Most of the shit you've ever given me will be in a box. It's kind of girly, but it was mom's old jewelry box. The only other thing that was saved from that stupid fire. Now I'm giving all that to you._ **

**_Please don't forget me, and please don't stop your puppy dog eyes to get what you want. It'll bring you justice one day. I know it served me well._ **

**_You may not need me anymore, and I guess I really don't have a choice but to not need you anymore either._ **

**_I know you love me,_ **

**_Dean Winchester_ **

Sam's voice was raspy and choking on air by the time he was finished. He couldn't believe that the selfish bastard had the nerve. He almost wished this letter was full of anger towards him, not devotion. He didn't deserve adoration from him. He didn't deserve anything. 

Bobby handed him a shot of whiskey, and Sam took it roughly before shoving it down his throat, the burning sensation matching the pain and numbness all over him. He looked down at the box, and suddenly he felt he needed to open it to carry on. with shaky fingers he lifted the lid and engraved was his mother's initials. A rusted pair of gold earrings sat in the corner, a rock shaped like a heart was also shuffling around. He found pictures of his mom, his brother holding him in a blanket looking lost and scared. Another was both of them in a bed together, about three years ago. Dean let him sneak into bed with him one night, and their dad must've snapped a photo of them holding each other like nothing else mattered. 

The keys to the impala were in there, along with a crisp and folded up graduation certificate from sixth grade. There were bracelets and necklaces and rings of Dean's that he collected as they scattered the country for hunts. They were all let for him. 

He clutched the letter and the box, before stuffing everything back in. He unwounded the amulet from his fingers and placed it gently on top, before settling it between all of Dean's car junk on the table. 

He shook off his shirt before reaching into the bag and pulling out a dark blue hood to pull over himself. He pulled it over his hair and settled his hands into the pockets and took a whiff of his brother's scent still barely on there. Cinnamon and sweat. It made him homesick. Looking over at Bobby he felt a surge of hopelessness, and Bobby probably felt it too. The old man walked him to the guest bed and let the still small boy-at least he will be in his heart-cry into his chest with the same raw jarring sobs Dean did. And they were stuck like that for who knows how long, until the pain was just as known as their right hand. 

 

Dean was buried five yards into the forest from Bobby's cabin, and every day for two months Sam would just sit there for hours, talking to his brother like he was still there. 

"You know, I saw the cutest waitress at that homey diner we always went to? She seemed new, and the old cashier recognized me. He was disappointed that you weren't...." 

Bobby knew it wasn't healthy, the way that boy acted. As if his brother could hear every word he said. Maybe he could, since Sam refused to do the hunter way. He didn't want to speak to a pile of ashes, a shattered hope of ever getting his brother back. He knew that he should draw the boy back from the dead brother. But he'd let him deal however he wanted to, until he broke. 

And Sam did, every night he cried out into the universe that it wasn't fair, that a hero shouldn't be taken and broken. That his brother deserved an apple pie life. 

But it never worked, and nothing ever happened. And he stopped praying. He understood why Dean always thought it was ridiculous. Maybe not because they didn't exist, but because they simply didn't care about a righteous man who's life was too short, and the adventures that were cut off. 

That was the last time he ever had hope for anything, and he decided that he was too full of cons to come out of something good. 

 

_Epilogue:_

Deanna couldn't understand her grandfather's relief that he was finally dying. Maybe it was because brain cancer was a bitch, or that he was too old to do anything but sleep. He's done more for her than anyone else, and she couldn't help but cry over the fact that he wasn't too sad about leaving her behind. 

She sat with him in the hospital, taking time off of college to hold his wrinkly hand and talk whispers over the heart monitor. Finally the old Winchester felt a pain in his heart, and he knew it was time to go. "Dean," He started, and she thought for a moment that it was her he was talking to. But then she saw the amulet he clutched his free hand around, and she was confused. There was another 'Dean' that he had never talked about. She knew he talked her parents into naming her Deanna. It had to do with that weird looking amulet and the scratched up car he still sat on the hood of during every morning drinking pure black coffee. 

She saw the smile on his face as the heart monitor and went silent, and rather than shouting for help, she smiled through her tears and hoped that whoever Dean was, that her Papa was with him now. 

_In Heaven:_

Sam marched up the gravel road, into the open field where he saw the basket of fireworks his Brother was holding. Dean turned around, a shit-eating grin on his face. "You finally made it bitch! I was wondering when you wanted to start this thing." The word jerk slipped off his tongue, and he suddenly felt young and free. He took one of the sparklers and helped his older brother light it up. They hugged and laughed and watched as the sky lit up. Sam danced under the lost memory and felt happy as his brother watched him in glee. After the first tree caught on fire, a young deputy begun to chase them into the forest. But that didn't matter. Because now he had the one person who mattered most in his life again. 

At least at the end of his apple pie life, was a heaven worth it all. Greatest hits to be replayed, bonds to be repaired. 

In this newly found place, he couldn't think of a single con. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was an okay ending, I've been trying to find time to write this! Please let me know if I should do more like this in the future. Thank you so much for enjoying this. Sorry if it was rushed, it's late and I wanted to get his out for you guys.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just part one! Don't worry I'm not done with this yet, but is it okay so far? Let me know what you think of my first sad fic.


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